


Lead You from Your Solitude

by IncandescentAntelope



Series: Historical AUs [7]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, Alternate Universe - Regency, Clothed Sex, M/M, Musicians, Power Bottom Katsuki Yuuri, Service Top Victor Nikiforov, Stradivarius Violins, Violinist Katsuki Yuuri, Voice Kink, i did a lot of math to make sure the dollar amounts matched for inflation don’t @ me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23860510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncandescentAntelope/pseuds/IncandescentAntelope
Summary: Yuuri has worked hard to become concertmaster and first chair violinist at the New York Philharmonic; his work has earned him quite a lot, including the affections of a secret admirer.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: Historical AUs [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1731136
Comments: 30
Kudos: 210





	Lead You from Your Solitude

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta readers! Title stolen from All I Ask of You from Phantom c:

Yuuri could feel the sweat pearling along his hairline as he stood, and bowed; the applause felt like thunder in his chest, waves of praise rolled over him for his flawless performance. Yuuri swept a hand over the rest of the orchestra, meeting Phichit’s eyes and thanking his second seat silently before striding proudly to the conductor’s podium and shaking Mr. Cialdini’s hand.

The applause continued as he strode offstage, his hands shaking as the excitement of it all buzzed under his skin. It was far from his first performance as concertmaster, but it never failed to set his heart on fire to feel the rumble of applause under his feet. He lingered in the staging areas as the orchestra made their bows, thanked the conductor and began packing away their things.

Phichit all but bounded off the stage to smother him in an embrace, knocking his glasses askew.

“Another flawless performance, concertmaster- _san_ ,” Phichit chirped, clapping him on the back with his usual cheer. “You really aren’t going to give me the chance to take your place, are you?” he teased, poking at Yuuri’s ribs through his satin waistcoat.

“Certainly not, as much as I admire your talents, Mr. Chulanont.” Yuuri replied, adjusting his glasses and turning on his heel, more than eager to step out of his new and impeccably shined shoes. They pinched his toes and were still incredibly uncomfortable to walk in. He could play it off for the short walk on and off stage, but god, it was agony to make the walk up the spiral staircase to his private practice rooms, where he had taken to spending most of his free time as of late.

“So… Yuuri…” Phichit began as they walked, “Have you given any thought to who might be leaving the flowers?”

Yuuri recoiled as, once again, his best friend brought up the mystery man. Well. Yuuri assumed he was a man. Not to risk painting with broad strokes, but the behavior of his mysterious suitor didn’t strike Yuuri as particularly feminine. Wishful thinking, perhaps, on Yuuri’s part, that the unknown person leaving roses in his rooms was someone of his particular affinity.

“I’ve given it plenty of thought, Phichit.” Yuuri answered curtly; the search for answers, the chase for this spectre of an admirer always culminated in a handful of dead ends. “But the thoughts aren’t much of a help on their own.”

Phichit’s lips curled down in a tight frown. “Please don’t tell me you’re simply going to give up?” He asked, goading Yuuri in that way only he did best. “How long has it been since you went out on the town? Had a drink, got to talking with a pretty, intelligent, well-to-do man?”

Yuuri scoffed. “You know I don’t have time to do that.” Phichit snorted a laugh, interrupting him. “I’m the first chair of the New York Philharmonic and you expect me to pub-crawl? Honestly, I get enough of this from Minako-senpai.”

“I’m the second chair and I go out more than twice annually.” Phichit muttered under his breath, pausing at the bottom of the staircase as Yuuri ascended. “No snarky remark to that one, hm?”

“Certainly not.” Yuuri’s voice floated down from the rafters, his heels clicking on the steps. “I’ll see you in the morning, Phichit. Coffee as always?”

“Are you still going to the auction tomorrow?” Phichit called up after him, and a flurry of excitement rolled over him. He’d been saving every spare penny he could for _years_ for this chance. “Are you still going to try to buy it?”

 _“Her,”_ Yuuri corrected; the bright, silvery tones of the instrument rang in his ears. “I’m going to do my best.” The Philharmonic had been mourning the recent loss of its founding father, and as his will declared, his personal effects were to be auctioned in charity for the symphony, and among them, was his prized violin, a piece of the philharmonic’s history.

Yuuri’s bow hand twitched as he thought about playing such a gorgeous instrument, his fingers moving over the neck of his own violin.

He barely heard a grumbled comment from below and Yuuri bid his goodnight, fishing out his key from his breast pocket and unlocking the door, his name engraved in a simple placard in the wood. It had been one of the negotiations of his taking the role of concertmaster, that he’d be granted a private space in the building for practice and seclusion. Yuuri had always enjoyed the quiet, enjoyed being alone with his instrument to prepare for a concert. Other people tended to complicate things.

Yuuri pushed the door open and was not at all surprised by the sight that met him— a brilliant bouquet of roses dyed blue, set in a glittering crystal vase on the vanity. As always, a silver ribbon was wrapped around the bouquet, the satin soft and begging to be touched. Yuuri would never admit to keeping every length of ribbon in a hatbox under his bed.

Yuuri sighed and laid his violin in its case, kicking off his shoes the moment he could. The blooms were fragrant, the scent filling the room. Yuuri couldn’t help but cross the space, rubbing a petal between his fingers and savoring their smooth texture, soft and plush against his skin. They felt like what Yuuri imagined a lover’s lips to be like, relying on his memory of Shakespeare to recall the line of roses and cheeks, hands and midnight romance.

The sharp corner of a card pricked the pad of his finger like a thorn, and Yuuri startled away from the bouquet, praying it hadn’t drawn blood. His hand was clean, unmarred; he couldn’t risk even the smallest injury. Once his pulse was under control again, he turned back to the card— a sparkling ivory cardstock tucked in among the blooms.

Yuuri picked it up carefully, as if it were made of ice and might melt at the slightest touch, the warmth of his hands enough to ruin it. He read slowly, the elegant, slanted script making him shiver. _Handwriting_ made him shiver. Good god, Yuuri laughed despite himself. How starved was he for affection that the mere appearance of someone’s penmanship had him weak in the knees?

> _Katsuki-san,_
> 
> _Deepest apologies for all this secrecy, I know you must wonder of the stranger leaving roses for you, but I promise you will know my identity soon. You looked beautiful tonight, the Beethoven concerto was absolutely beyond compare._
> 
> _-V_

Yuuri stared at the card, turning it over in his hands. It didn’t make sense, why someone would be leaving him such cryptic gifts without revealing their identity. It left him just shy of unsettled, that someone had been in his space, that someone had seen the messy state of his room.

The thought of the locked door had him equally concerned, that his admirer might have a key.

He tucked the card into his pocket and nearly jumped out of his tuxedo at the sight of his own coat hanging on the rack in the corner, his hat atop it. In the mirror it had looked like a man, sulking in the corners of his vision.

He shook himself, laughing at the ridiculous notion. Surely, he wasn’t being stalked. The management would never allow something so heinous. But still the thoughts lurked in the quiet of his mind; that around every corner, someone might be waiting.

 _How soon was soon?_ Yuuri asked himself as he locked his violin’s case, sealing it away for another night. When would he be approached by the person claiming to be his admirer? Had they acquired some kind of sick attraction to Yuuri without even knowing him?

_V._

What if it was someone he already knew? Who else had access to his rooms, or even knew how to find them? His social circles had significantly diminished since leaving Japan and finding his new home stateside, only really interacting with his fellow musicians and the occasional visit from neighbors.

Perhaps he had a reason to be concerned. But whatever worries he had vanished as he finally set foot in his own home, locking the deadbolt and chain behind him. The worry was replaced by a strange, giddy sensation bubbling up in his chest. Maybe he should have been more cautious, more concerned for his safety if a stranger could leave roses behind in his locked rooms, but all Yuuri could feel was a rush of excitement.

How long had it been since he had gone to sleep with a smile on his face?

Yuuri didn’t know.

* * *

Yuuri couldn’t breathe as he stepped into the foyer of the concert hall, the space buzzing with people who recognized him, wanted to chat, were eager to ask of Yuuri’s intentions for the event. He had been asked to perform a short piece before the bidding began, which he was only happy to oblige. He knew he was the face of the symphony, himself and Mr. Cialdini, of course.

Celestino interrupted a pleasant conversation with one of the philharmonic’s donors, whisking him away from the festivities and through the back doors.

“Have you decided on your piece, Katsuki-san?” Celestino asked, to which Yuuri nodded, smiling. He had been working on the piece with the pianist on a new arrangement of an older piece, and he had been overjoyed when Miss Abelashvili brought him the finished sheet music. It was a gorgeous piece, truly, and Yuuri had lauded Ketty for her work, asking her to accompany him while he played it that afternoon.

Yuuri couldn’t stop thinking about the violin, hidden away from public view until the very last moment; it was to be a surprise for the auction, Celestino had fed him the secret weeks ago. Even as he took his place on the stage, bowing cordially and recognizing Miss Abelashvili on the piano, he couldn’t stop imagining that violin in place of his own, the silvery tones singing so effortlessly clear in the vaulted ceilings of the concert hall, echoing bright and beautiful.

Ketty’s arpeggios were beautiful, enchanting; Yuuri felt his heart lifting out of his chest, the lights gleaming bright as the sun. Yuuri struck his first few notes, the strings carrying through the hall, his bow arm moving smoothly over the strings as easily as breathing. The sound escaping his instrument was more natural than his own voice felt.

The performance came and went, Ketty’s last keystrokes resounding and pure under Yuuri’s triumphant final notes, the gathered crowd clapping as he took his bows.

He couldn’t have found his seat faster, sitting beside Celestino as the proceedings began. The conductor bid on a handful of things, always jovially bowing out when he needed to, laughing heartily when he was outbid by a wealthy patron or a donor.

Yuuri himself had volunteered an hour of lessons, which went for a hefty two hundred dollars. Yuuri blushed down to the tips of his toes that someone would pay such a price for a single private lesson, but he stood and waved anyway, smiling politely at the highest bidder; he was a tall man, by himself in one of the private boxes, a flash of blonde hair elegantly coiffed, round silver spectacles balanced on his nose.

From his place near the wall, Yuuri could see the smirk on the man’s lips, and Yuuri wondered absently if he might find himself distracted during said lesson, becoming lost in those warm hazel-green eyes, but he shook himself from the thoughts before they could come to fruition.

A handful more items and lots passed, Yuuri felt himself inching toward the edge of his seat more and more as the end of the auction came closer. There were a few more tributes, even a handful of instruments were sold as well, but by the time that the last lot was revealed, Yuuri couldn’t help but place his lowest bid immediately.

“And for our grand finale,” The announcer’s voice was crisp and clear as an autumn morning. “We are pleased to offer the late Mr. Hill’s beloved violin, _Jasper_.”

A chill ran down Yuuri’s spine as the glass case was revealed, the Stradivarius violin within resting like a piece carved out of heaven; it took his breath away, the way the light danced on the polished wood body of her, gleaming and shining like the stone she was named for. Yuuri didn’t wait to hear the opening bid, raising his number in the air with triumphant flair.

“One thousand!” Yuuri exclaimed eagerly, turning nearly every head in the room to himself as another number was raised.

“Two!” A woman’s voice called, her gloved hand clutching desperately to the bidder number, and Yuuri felt sorry for her, truly. He had been saving for most of his life to buy an instrument so beautiful as _Jasper_. He had already picked out her new name.

 _Aria_. A distinct voice, apart from the symphony, clear and unique, something all its own.

“Seven.” Yuuri replied coolly, spotting another number rise into the air in his periphery. It was the blonde man from earlier, his smirk remaining firmly on his lips.

 _“Ten.”_ His voice was deep and accented, but Yuuri didn’t bow to the pressure.

“Twelve.” Yuuri knew his hand was shaking, his tie suddenly felt too tight around his throat, his collar sticking. He had saved a handsome amount specifically for this instrument, he was prepared to bid higher.

He couldn’t let her go. He couldn’t allow _Aria_ to slip out of his grasp.

“Fourteen,” the blonde man replied calmly, the woman behind them giving in. Another man, who Yuuri recognized as a high-tier donor bid seventeen thousand, followed immediately by Yuuri’s twenty-two.

The numbers were truly obscene in value and made his head spin but he held his ground as the other bidders began to concede, the entire gathered crowd had their eyes on Yuuri. It felt like another concert, his voice singing out in replacement of his violin. The bidding climbed higher and higher, inching toward the amount Yuuri knew he could no longer afford.

“One hundred.” The blonde man called, his voice low and proud, rocking through Yuuri’s core like the final clap of thunder. Yuuri knew his savings wouldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t have two pennies to rub together. He’d need to take out a loan.

He let his paddle fall, conceding his loss with numb fingers and the threat of tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Celestino set his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, but the comfort felt hollow. Yuuri had dreamt of holding her in his hands, of running his bow across those strings as costly as angel’s heartstrings, watching as _Aria_ was marked sold.

Yuuri did go drinking that night, meeting Phichit at one of the bars downtown, for which he dearly paid when he woke the next morning, hungover as a boozehound on Phichit’s davenport. An ungodly amount of sunshine was streaming in from between Phichit’s curtains, and the realization jolted Yuuri awake so fast he lost his meager dinner almost as soon as he had stood up.

Playing the violin while hungover was an excruciating torture Yuuri wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy, the high notes grated on his nerves until it made him nauseous. Phichit had the good sense to stay home from rehearsal that day, but Yuuri couldn’t possibly be absent. He could barely stifle his frustration, however, when one of the junior violinists continued to play too sharp.

Yuuri stomached the hour-long rehearsal before retiring to his practice rooms again, exceedingly glad for the quiet. The door squeaked as it opened as always, and Yuuri was beyond prepared to soak a washcloth in cool water and rest until his concert that evening, but the sight that met him put an immediate halt on his plans.

Resting in his own violin’s case, surrounded by a bed of deep blue crushed velvet, was Aria. The gleam of polished spruce and maple in the warm light of his vanity pulled all the breath from Yuuri’s lungs. How?

Yuuri stood in the doorway, simply lingering, staring. Maybe he was still drunk, or perhaps all of this was simply a compelling hallucination. Maybe he was glimpsing the afterlife, drunken shenanigans gone terribly awry in the small morning hours.

But no. Yuuri took a tentative step forward, a shaky hand moved carefully as he set his own instrument down, running his hand over the slopes of her body. One of the rarest instruments on earth, one of only a few hundred made by the master luthier’s hands… Yuuri could scarcely breathe.

With careful hands, Yuuri lifted _Aria_ from the case, his body moving slowly, should the violin crumble like sand between his fingers. She fit perfectly against Yuuri’s body, the weight more symbolic than physical. Yuuri lifted one of his bows from the case as well, his breath bated. He set his fingering and pulled his bow across the strings.

The sound that came from the violin was so sweet, so silvery and crisp that it nearly brought Yuuri to tears. He couldn’t help himself from continuing, moving through every piece of music that came to mind, his hands shaking with such euphoria that he never wanted to put the instrument down.

 _Should I die come morning,_ Yuuri thought to himself as his final note rang out, _I have finally found my peace._

Yuuri still couldn’t believe it when he sat on the ottoman in the middle of the room, his legs shaking. How long had he been standing, playing? _Aria_ had eluded him the night before, giving him only a passing glimpse at touching her before she disappeared into the night like an elusive lover… but here they were, and here she was, in Yuuri’s hands.

But how?

A sinking realization washed over Yuuri then. _V._ There was another note set into last night’s roses, Yuuri realized, spotting the white hiding among the blue.

> _Katsuki-san,_
> 
> _Again I must apologize, it was incredibly rude of me to have my associate outbid you last night. You’ll have to forgive me for being so selfish as to hope this would serve you better as a gift instead. She is yours, I only ask that you meet me in the concert hall tonight for a private performance._
> 
> _-V_

A chill ran down the length of Yuuri’s spine then. How could he possibly refuse after he’d been given such a priceless gift? Something dangerous, something exciting settled in the back of his mind at the thought. He would finally be meeting the man leaving the roses, finally seeing the face behind that mask of darkness, shadow.

He tucked the note into his pocket, his heart thumping a dizzying rhythm as he came to rest on the plush lounge, almost too eager to rest. It wasn’t much longer before Phichit joined him again, having met with his secretive paramour, who Phichit had expressly forbidden Yuuri from meeting.

“Think of him as my blossoming cape jasmine, Yuuri, he only blooms at night.” Phichit had teased ominously, and Yuuri might have been concerned for his friend’s safety, if not for Phichit’s insistence that he was no danger to Phichit’s safety. “Unless you consider his incomparable talents in the small hours dangerous.”

Yuuri had squeaked at Phichit’s indiscretion, but made no judgments; he’d had his share of illicit fumblings outside the marital bed, though none of them remaining in his company come morning or the following weekend.

“Yuuri. What on _god’s green Earth is that?_ ” Phichit’s voice rose in pitch, waking him from his light doze. “I thought you lost the bid… how? What… Did you steal it?” Phichit floated dreamily toward _Aria_ , still resting gently in Yuuri’s case.

“I did not _steal_ her.” Yuuri began, rising slowly and arching his back, stretching himself out. “The man leaving me the flowers, it seems he had a colleague outbid me in order to give it to me as a gift.”

Phichit looked scandalized. “My, my, Yuuri… you’ve certainly found yourself a well-to-do phantom, haven’t you?” He nodded down at the violin, and Yuuri nodded, though he did hold his thumb tight in his own fist as Phichit played a few tentative chords. “Oh… just as beautiful as they say… Stradivari himself couldn’t have hoped for a more talented violinist than you, Katsuki-san.”

Yuuri blushed at the praise and watched as Phichit played a short movement of Bach, the joy in his eyes evident as the bright tones of the instrument washed over them both, filling the space around them with music.

“I could say the same of you, Mr. Chulanont.” Yuuri rebutted, smiling as Phichit rounded off his short performance with a flourished bow and passed Yuuri the violin once again. “V… he asked me to play for him.” Yuuri said, plucking the strings in a gentle refrain of the piece Phichit had played.

“Oh, did he?” Phichit asked, his smile full of mirth and molasses. Yuuri saw a glimpse of the man he had spent his conservatory years with, playful and endlessly mischievous. There were still traces of him, that joyous energy filling Yuuri with the same whenever they were in each other’s company. Phichit was a burst of light in Yuuri’s world of sheet music and blistered fingertips. “Are you finally going to meet him, then?”

Yuuri’s heart fluttered and he nodded. “I am.”

“When? When, Yuuri?” Phichit demanded, blinking those bright, begging eyes at Yuuri.

“Tonight.”

* * *

When the time came for that night's usual concert— the one on Yuuri's official schedule and not the illicit after hours performance planned for an audience of one, Yuuri appeared from the wings carrying his own violin instead of _Aria_. Something in his soul demanded he save the first performance for V, despite his desperate craving to display her in all her grandeur. He wanted to hear her voice on her own, bouncing around the hall in a symphony all her own.

The concert passed in a blur, Yuuri floating through every piece and his solos with ease, the applause ringing in his ears as he stood and bowed. His entire body was buzzing like he’d been struck by lightning, he couldn’t wait for the room to empty, to play for just V, to show him how beautifully he would use the gift he had been given.

Yuuri spent a few hours holed up in his rooms, playing a handful of short pieces, running through his scales and arpeggios. He hadn’t played so much in such a long time his fingers had begun to ache, but that didn’t mean he was any less eager to meet him.

Yuuri had begun to imagine what kind of man he was, what kind of face might he meet tonight, the man that had been sending him roses, praising him, watching him from the wings… and with the kind of money that could buy a Stradivarius…

The small clock on the wall chimed eleven and Yuuri jumped up, having spent nearly half an hour staring at the hands as they moved. The world around him moved too quickly as he walked, _Aria_ held carefully in his arm. The concert hall was eerily quiet, every footstep loud in the space, echoing in the hallways. Excitement began to rise and swell in his chest as he stepped through the stage door.

With a centering breath, Yuuri stepped out onto the stage. All of his fellow musician’s chairs were empty, all of the lamps had been turned down or off, leaving the hall in a warm half-light. The room felt cavernous with the lights off, there was no way of knowing just how large it was without the light to guide his eye. He could only see the end of the stage from the low lights lining the edge, meant to illuminate the rest of the stage; now they only caught the shine of Yuuri’s shoes against the mahogany of the wooden planks.

“Hello?” Yuuri called tentatively, his voice quavering more than he had hoped. “Mr… V?”

“Ah, Katsuki-san,” a soft, accented voice floated through the dark. “Thank you for coming tonight.” Yuuri couldn’t discern where the voice was coming from, left right or center. It was almost alarming, the mysterious, disembodied voice filtering out of the darkness, but an odd calm washed over Yuuri. He knew he was in no danger. This man was able to find his way into his locked rooms, and could have done any manner of unspeakable act… but he didn’t.

“I would never dream of refusing, you’ve given me such a beautiful gift, after all.” Yuuri replied, basking in the balmy warmth of the room. “Thank you, by the way… I don’t know if I can ever fully thank you.”

A low, gentle chuckle echoed in the space. “Simply hearing you play will be more than enough thanks, Katsuki-san.” The voice sent chills down Yuuri’s spine. He recognized the accent now, Russian, the trilled r’s and soft plosives were just like those of one of his professors at the conservatory. “You’ve chosen a name, I’m sure?”

“I have, her name is _Aria_.” Yuuri answered with a smile, checking his tuning as he lifted the instrument to his chin and shoulder.

“Oh… that’s beautiful, Katsuki-san.” His voice was velvet in Yuuri’s ears, it made his toes curl in his shoes. “It suits her perfectly… I couldn’t have chosen a better name myself.”

Yuuri could feel his cheeks heating with the praise. “Thank you. What would my esteemed guest like to hear tonight?”

That earned him another soft laugh, another twinge of excitement curling around Yuuri’s spine. “Anything you’d like, Katsuki-san.”

Yuuri had chosen a few pieces to play, specifically the two he and Phichit had been working on together. The two pieces centered around the duelling themes of passion and innocence, of lust and heat and tender and tame… Eros and Agape, they had named the two pieces. While Yuuri had insisted he only knew of Agape, of soft, chaste love, Phichit insisted otherwise.

“You really don’t notice the way people see you, do you?” Phichit had asked him one night while they worked through melodies and arrangements.

“People don’t _see_ me, Phichit.” Yuuri had replied. He now knew that to be a lie. V had seen him, was seeing him now. Had Yuuri meet him in the dead of night, in an empty hall, just to hear him play. Had bought him a priceless instrument, all without having met him. Without Yuuri having seen him once.

Yuuri swallowed thickly around the thought. “Will my audience grace me with his presence or shall I have to imagine him a ghost?” He asked, intending it to be a joke, but what V said in reply made him shudder.

“Oh, my dear, you’re far too beautiful for me to be closer than I am now.”

Yuuri swallowed thickly and nodded, lifting his bow to the strings and he began to play. V’s attention was a physical thing, he could feel his eyes on him as he played. Even if he couldn’t see him, he felt the weight of it as if he was being touched. Even in the low light, Yuuri could feel the weight of his attention. He could feel his gaze following the flow of his arms as he moved through Agape, the slow, graceful movements of his bow across the strings; he could feel his eyes on his hips when he couldn’t seem to remain still while playing Eros, the melody itself seducing both of them.

Yuuri couldn’t stop himself from imagining his mysterious admirer watching, appreciating both the song Yuuri was offering him and the presence of only himself on the stage. He found it increasingly difficult not to feel a certain kind of excitement at the thought. He felt a thrill at being so singularly desired, of his talent being so sought after that a suitor would ask him to meet in the dead of night…

What would V do if Yuuri asked him to meet him face to face? What would his touch feel like, without the space between them so thick and vast and dark? A shudder ran down his spine, pooling thick, molten warmth in his core. Yuuri’s sex throbbed in his trousers, and the arousal was just as surprising as it was exciting.

Would V notice? The darkness surely obscured the physical evidence of it, but god above, Yuuri couldn’t shake the thought of his audience seeing him like this. Yuuri felt his cheeks grow redder as he continued to play, the sensual, trilled notes of Eros only intensifying the arousal, the music itself underscoring it.

V clapped in appreciation after Yuuri let his last note die, Yuuri’s soft, panting breaths a reply. “Absolutely marvelous, Katsuki-san,” his voice sounded like it was closer than before, though maybe Yuuri was simply seeking it out more than he had before. “I haven’t heard those pieces before, are they originals?”

Yuuri nodded, then hummed a verbal yes, knowing he might not be seen well. (Though Yuuri felt seen in the most delicious way, it still had him thirsting for something more substantial.) “It is, it’s something I’ve been working on with Mr. Chulanont, my second chair.” Yuuri replied, feeling a slight breeze against his cheek.

“I haven’t heard anything new in some time… I do hope you’ll bring it to Mr. Cialdini for a full arrangement. It would sound wonderful voiced by the full symphony.” V replied, and Yuuri swore he could feel his gaze on him again, the praise like fire in his veins.

“Thank you, I… your praise is greatly appreciated,” Yuuri answered. “I hope you’re satisfied that your gift will be well cared-for.”

“Oh, Katsuki-san…” his voice was so near Yuuri swore he could feel his breath against his cheek. He even turned to the side, as if V might have been standing beside him. There was nothing, only the crimson velvet curtains, the exit door slightly ajar. “I’m more than satisfied. May I ask you to join me here again, tomorrow night?”

Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat, and confidence (and admittedly, a bit of carnal lust) surged in his chest. “I will, if you let me see you.” Yuuri said, smiling at his bit of defiance.

A soft _oh?_ echoed in the room, and Yuuri yearned to hear that sound again, in a much different context. “Oh my, demanding, aren't we?”

Yuuri squirmed at the teasing, the tone of his voice so playful. Was it sinful to want that voice to tease him more? “You’ve…” Yuuri pulled in a quick breath. “You’ve been leaving me flowers for months, I know you want this as much as I do. I won’t play another note until I see you.”

A heavy, pregnant pause hung in the air between them, before V replied, a throaty chuckle making Yuuri simultaneously shudder and smirk. “Is that so, Katsuki-san?”

Yuuri stood resolute, swallowing thickly. “Yes. I insist.” Another soft shifting of the air around him made his knees buckle. Something in the corner of his periphery caught his attention, something light against the dark. A halo? Yuuri thought, maybe his admirer was a specter all along.

"Do you still insist, Katsuki-san?" V asked, a figure revealing itself with a flash of white teeth in the dark. "Have you had enough of our little game?"

Yuuri's stomach twisted in the most pleasant way. "Yes. Show yourself." He remained resolute despite the quivering in his core, that clawing arousal that demanded he lower himself to pleading. V chuckled again and he stepped into the light from between heavy crimson curtains, the gleam of a mischievous smile on his lips… but what Yuuri recognized first was his hair: silver and silken, perfectly coiffed as always.

"Mr… Mr. Nikiforov…" Yuuri breathed in disbelief, kicking himself for not recognizing the signs before. How many times had he met the owner of the Philharmonic, shared pleasant conversation with him at galas, found himself lost in his chilling, icy blue eyes? How many nights had he imagined himself tangled up in pleasure with him, his lean, gracile form bent over his own as they plundered each other's bodies in search of ecstasy?

He should have recognized the accent, should have known he was able to access his rooms… and yet, he had succeeded in surprising him. Yuuri stood with his mouth agape, unsure exactly how to coordinate the simmering heat in his core with the fantasies of nights before.

" _Mmm,_ I had hoped you would have solved it sooner," Mr. Nikiforov smirked playfully, picking at the edge of Yuuri's competitive spirit. "But alas, I had to concede my physical appearance."

Yuuri balked at the admittedly playful jab, his brow furrowing in the middle. "I might have solved it, had you not only the day before yesterday told me your first initial," Yuuri retorted, crossing his arms, Aria held carefully in his hand. Mr. Nikiforov crossed the stage in long, graceful steps, the shimmer of his hair and the shine in his eyes catching in the low light. His tongue seemed to tie itself in knots as he approached, all the fire and determination from moments ago bleeding from him in an instant.

“Oh, Katsuki-san… don’t tell me that fire is fading now,” Mr. Nikiforov purred, his perfectly pink lips pursed and playful. “You were so eager to challenge me just a moment ago. Where’s that zeal gone, hm?”

Yuuri swallowed thickly, painfully distracted by the way his admirer was dressed, his tuxedo so flawlessly fit there was no doubt in Yuuri’s mind that it was bespoke. God, he was perfect… crafted of the same pristine marble as David.

“It hasn’t gone anywhere, Mr. Nikiforov,” Yuuri replied after collecting himself, the sight of the philharmonic’s owner rattling him as much as it was making him yearn to close the space between them.

“Ah, wonderful news.” Mr. Nikiforov pressed a gloved finger to his lips, and if Yuuri had not known better, he would have searched for the telltale bump of a wedding band on his finger, but he knew the man to be a bachelor. “You are quite the enigma, Katsuki-san. I have followed your work for so long, and after overhearing your… _commentary_ at the closing gala in the winter, I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”

Yuuri blinked at him in confusion. Phichit had needled him into a handful of glasses of champagne, coaxed him into some gossip, even, at the grand gala thrown to thank sponsors and honor the musicians for a successful season…

“I’m… I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Nikiforov.” Yuuri replied, watching as his admirer’s features contort in confusion as well. “Commentary?”

“Oh… were you truly _that_ intoxicated? Oh, how crass…” he teased, Yuuri’s cheeks turning bright red at the insult.

“I’m not sure you have the moral high ground, you’ve been sulking around in my private rooms for months and haven’t had the nerve to speak a word to me of your admiration for me,” Yuuri snapped in reply, feeling fire rising in his chest. “Now. You will tell me what you’re speaking about, or I will be on my way for the evening.”

Mr. Nikiforov stopped dead in his tracks, his own cheeks suddenly splashed with red. Yuuri wondered if perhaps he had let his temper go too far, and began formulating his apology and immediate resignation letter over the matter in his mind, but Mr. Nikiforov’s shaky sigh called him back to the moment.

“I… I’m sorry,” he said in a rush of breath, “I did not intend to offend you, Katsuki-san. My mouth ran away from me. Please, forgive me.”

Yuuri blew out a cleansing breath and nodded, taking a sure, strong step forward. “You are forgiven.” His shoulders visibly relaxed, his body language reading relieved. “Now, what was this about commentary?” Yuuri asked, taking another step forward, the space between himself and Mr. Nikiforov closing quickly.

He swallowed thickly, audibly, and Yuuri watched his throat move as he did… just the sight alone was exciting. “I heard, through the grapevine, that you… and your second chair, Mr. Chulanont, were discussing matters of…” Mr. Nikiforov paused, his cheeks growing redder. “You were discussing who in attendance you would like to spend an evening with.”

“Oh?” Yuuri’s eyes went wide. He didn’t recall such a conversation, but he knew Phichit had probably found himself gossipping after the fact. Yuuri cursed his loose lips, made even worse when he was inebriated. “And… what did you hear, Mr. Nikiforov?”

“I was told that you had a particular interest in the owner of the Philharmonic,” Mr. Nikiforov said, matching Yuuri’s step forward with one of his own. “And… well. _Spending_ the night with him, if I recall.” His inflection made Yuuri’s stomach flip, the realization crashing over him like a wave.

“I… that was quite improper of me, I apologize,” Yuuri began, but Mr. Nikiforov waved his hand, shaking his head gently.

“No apology required, I was thrilled to hear of it, Katsuki-san. I… I have to be honest, I feel the same way about you.” he admitted, his cheeks coloring a beautiful rosy pink.

Yuuri cocked a curious eyebrow upward. “Is that so?” The space between them dissipated to nothing as Yuuri took one final step forward, their bodies so close he could lean forward and kiss him without much effort. “How scandalous. Such a well-to-do man as yourself, hoping to bed someone like me."

A chill ran down Yuuri's spine as the man before him whined, a needy sound that went right to his core.

"Oh, I've struck a nerve in you, haven't I?" Yuuri teased further, admiring the gold, glittering chain of his pocket watch resting delicately against his waistcoat. "Is that why you gave me _Aria_ as a gift? To seduce me, Mr. Nikiforov?" Yuuri watched as he pulled his lower lip between his teeth again, surely straining against the teasing, but the appearance of a bulge in his trousers told the truth, even if Mr. Nikiforov refused to say it outright.

“I wouldn’t dream of bribing you that way,” Mr. Nikiforov replied, his voice growing quiet, breathier. “I merely wished to give you what you deserve, to provide you with the finery someone as beautiful as yourself ought to have.”

“This is quite the courting gift, Mr. Nikiforov.” Yuuri teased, nodding down at the violin in his hand, and oh, did he flush at Yuuri’s words. “Surely you’d appreciate some kind of thanks?” Yuuri offered his hand, which Mr. Nikiforov gladly took; Yuuri ached to pull the white gloves from his hands, to feel the warmth of his skin against that of his admirer… but there was plenty of time for that later.

“I certainly wouldn’t refuse.” Mr. Nikiforov replied with a soft laugh. “So our concertmaster hasn’t lost that fire after all,” he added, his accent growing thicker as Yuuri began to pull him through the stage door. “I was beginning to worry—”

“Worry not, Mr. Nikiforov,” Yuuri interrupted, stopping at the foot of the spiral staircase and nodding upward, gesturing for him to go first. “I’m still just as eager as I was before. After you.” He insisted, smiling as a faint blush crawled across that slender nose, sculpted cheekbones. Yuuri watched with a satisfied smirk as his admirer began to ascend ahead of him, the tails of his overcoat swaying with the movement of his hips.

“I hope you haven’t simply done this to admire my rear, Katsuki-san…”

“Oh, on the contrary, I think you do hope I’ve done that, Mr. Nikiforov.” Yuuri replied, very truthfully enjoying the view. “As though you wouldn’t be doing the same, were our positions swapped.”

Mr. Nikiforov laughed, a bright, sweet sound. “I cannot deny it,” he admitted, looking back over his shoulder with a wink. “Though I suppose any ghost of my propriety is far gone, if my assumptions are correct in where you’re leading me?”

Yuuri flushed and nodded. “I suppose so, Mr. Nikiforov,” he replied, his core tightening as his admirer made it clear that he endorsed Yuuri’s plan to take him back to his dressing room.

“Viktor, please,” came that breathy, accented voice, and Yuuri felt his heart skip a beat.

“Yes, Viktor.” Yuuri offered in reply.

Soon, when they were both at the upper landing, Yuuri passed Viktor, pulling the key to his rooms from his breast pocket and pushing the door open, holding it for Viktor with a half bow, inclining his head gently.

He entered for the first time with Yuuri’s explicit invitation and Yuuri felt his cheeks grow warm at the thought. He let the door fall closed behind him, a question in Viktor’s blue eyes. Yuuri moved slowly, intentionally, with all the smooth grace of the performer he had trained all his life to become. Setting _Aria_ down in her case and snapping it shut, Yuuri turned on his heel to face Viktor, a fresh bouquet of his roses still resting on his vanity beside the case.

“It’s odd, being here at the same time.” Viktor remarked, something earnest, even yearning in his eyes as he found his seat on the chaise lounge in the middle of the room.

Yuuri could feel the same, echoing in his chest. They were two of the same kind, identically tuned to each other; a string plucked in Viktor resonated in Yuuri as well. “It certainly is… and now that you’ve found your way here, what ever is it that you intend to do?”

It was Viktor’s turn to swallow the lump in his throat then, his mouth falling open as he searched for his own words. “Well, I’d… I would certainly like to kiss you, Katsuki-san,” Viktor began, his voice faltering around Yuuri’s family name.

Yuuri slowly joined Viktor on the chaise, sitting beside him in a way that, clearly, Viktor was not pleased by. His lips curled downward gently, his silver brows furrowed in the middle.

"You may kiss me, Viktor, but on this condition." Yuuri began, pointing one finger upward. Viktor nodded, his hair moving gently as he did. "You call me Yuuri." He said, pressing that finger to Viktor’s parted lips. “I would like to hear you call me by my name.”

“Yuuri…” Viktor breathed, his breath warm against Yuuri’s bare skin. He shuddered, making no move to advance their contact; he simply waited, watching as Viktor’s lip was pulled between his teeth, his Adam's apple bobbed in clear want. He could see Viktor’s blush bleeding down his throat and beyond where Yuuri’s eyes could see, under that pristine white collar. The contrast of flushed skin against the black of Viktor’s tuxedo was nearly obscene in and of itself.

“I thought you said you’d like to kiss me,” Yuuri remarked in a whisper. “Or did I mishear you, Viktor?” His tone was warm, eager, and oh, it was fun to watch Viktor squirm.

“I did, I want to… may I? Please?” Viktor asked, his breaths coming fast and uneven, and Yuuri felt drunk on the sound of it. Oh, it was intoxicating, the power Viktor had given him, simply by delaying him this way.

Turnabout was _delicious._

“You may.” Yuuri breathed, and Viktor was moving within a second, pressing his lips to Yuuri’s in a rush of hurried breath and he gasped a moan at the contact. Viktor had turned on the couch to fully face Yuuri, his gloved hands twisting in his trousers as Yuuri’s own gripped the brocaded fabric of the sofa. Viktor’s lips were plush and eager, warm and oh so wet against Yuuri’s own.

“Hands, please,” Yuuri rumbled quietly against Viktor’s lips, and he complied immediately, pulling away to set his hands in Yuuri’s. They were shaking gently, and Yuuri couldn’t fight the smirk that played across his cheeks. “You aren’t nervous, are you?”

“Oh, god, no, I’m excited, eager.” Vitkor hurried to reply, a shudder rolling through his body as Yuuri lifted his right hand to his mouth, pulled his middle finger between his lips. The material was thin and soft, _expensive_ , Yuuri noted. Viktor moaned as Yuuri’s tongue wet through the fabric and his teeth caught on the fingertip of the glove.

“Is that so?” Yuuri purred with gritted teeth, tugging Viktor’s glove from his hand slowly with his teeth. Viktor moaned a yes as Yuuri pulled the empty garment from his mouth and tucked it into the pocket of his own coat. “Excited to be touched? Excited to finally have been caught by the object of your affections?” Yuuri lifted Viktor’s other hand to his lips and repeated the movement.

“Yes, Yuuri, yes,” Viktor panted, the bulge in his trousers now as impossible to ignore as Yuuri’s own. The attention Viktor afforded him felt like whiskey in his veins, made him dizzy, lightheaded, loose-lipped in all the best ways. “I’ve thought about this so often as of late, I don’t know if I could have stood another night watching you from my box.”

Yuuri smirked as he tucked away the other glove. “You put on a valiant show of refusing me at first then, Viktor,” Yuuri teased, wrapping his hands around Viktor’s wrists and setting them on his own hips as he moved into Viktor’s lap, his pants pulling tight at the strained positioning of his legs. One knee rested on the couch and the other was between Viktor’s thighs, Viktor’s bare hands clung tightly to Yuuri’s hips. “You seemed so determined to drag things out, to continue to tease me while I played for you…”

Yuuri leaned into Viktor’s space, pinning him against the back of the sofa, one arm on either side of his head. Viktor seemed to melt under the confinement, his eyes rolling back with pleasure as Yuuri’s thigh pressed in closer against his groin. Yuuri could scarcely believe he was doing this, it had been so long since he’d taken a lover, and never had he been so forward, so domineering… and yet, it felt so right, so incomparably wonderful to be astride this man’s lap, teasing him into a puddle of nothing.

“You were hoping to provoke me, weren’t you, Viktor?” Yuuri purred in his ear, dancing his lips so dangerously close to his skin that he felt Viktor leaning toward the sound of his voice. “You wanted me to do this, didn’t you? You’d always hoped I would bring you to my rooms and reduce you to clay in my hands, didn’t you?”

Viktor moaned, nodding as his hips began to roll, grinding himself shamelessly against Yuuri’s thigh. “Yes, yes, I… _god_ ,” Viktor began, his breaths sharp and staccato. “Please, Yuuri, please, touch me,” he begged, his head tipping back as Yuuri dove down to Viktor’s throat, newly exposed and begging to be explored with lips and tongue.

Viktor moaned, his grip tightening and shifting backward toward Yuuri’s rear as Yuuri pressed hot, wet kisses to Viktor’s tender throat. Yuuri slowly danced a single hand down Viktor’s chest, his admirer’s body arching into the touch like a magnetic end tugged toward its match.

“You look utterly divine in this suit, Viktor…” Yuuri purred against Viktor’s pulse point, nipping at the spot playfully. “I hate to get it dirty, but I wouldn’t dare ask you to strip yourself nude. Not when you look so sinfully attractive.”

Viktor whimpered at the praise and sheer, unadulterated pleasure as Yuuri’s hand found his groin, his erect length straining against the inside of his pants. Yuuri grabbed tightly at Viktor’s waist, pinning him down as he attempted to roll his hips against his hand, making him shudder again.

“Yuuri, please,” Viktor babbled, his begging reaching a fevered pitch as Yuuri flicked open the button of his trousers. The pleasure of unraveling Viktor had Yuuri’s cock twitching in his pants, and he reveled in drawing it out, pulling Viktor’s zipper down tooth by tooth until he could reach his hand inside. Viktor’s cock throbbed in Yuuri’s hand as he pulled it free, his skin flushed dark red where the head of him was visible beneath his foreskin. A pearl of precome had already begun to bead at Viktor’s slit when Yuuri began to stroke him, and Yuuri was grateful for the late hour, Viktor’s gasping moans were so loud, he doubted any passerby wouldn’t hear him.

“Oh, Viktor… you really have been craving this, haven’t you?” Yuuri teased, kissing along Viktor’s jaw to his lips, moaning lewdly into his mouth. “You’ve touched yourself to the thought of this, haven’t you?” Yuuri was being bold tonight, he realized with a cheeky laugh.

“God, so many times, I… oh, Yuuri, it’s all I can think about,” Viktor panted, Yuuri’s other hand dropping to his own fly and letting his pants fall over the curve of his ass. “At night, after I watch you play, I imagine you, taking your p-pleasure from me, just like this.”

“Is that so?” Yuuri moaned as he wrapped his own hand around himself, stroking once, twice, in tandem with the hand around Viktor’s cock. “Have you imagined me riding you, like this? Taking you in your tuxedo like a man starved? So needy and desperate for me, aren’t you?” The words were obscene, and Yuuri could barely believe he was saying them, but oh, the things they did to Viktor… he could murmur these sinful words forever, if it meant keeping Viktor this close to desperation.

Yuuri quickened his pace, allowing Viktor to buck up into his fist as much as he liked, flicking his wrist over his sensitive head with each stroke, measuring the sounds he made carefully.

“That’s it, Viktor, it feels so good, doesn’t it?” Yuuri crooned, eyeing the bottle of oil he had left on his vanity, hidden among a handful of other toiletries and products. “Take your pleasure.” He demanded, watching as Viktor’s throat flushed a crimson red, his lips swollen and kiss-bruised.

“ _Ah_ , I’m, Yuuri, please,” Viktor gasped, his hands now clinging to Yuuri’s bare ass, long fingers digging in almost painfully. “Yuuri, Yuuuuu-ri, I’m--”

Yuuri pulled his hand away just as Viktor’s voice peaked, his moan shifting to a frustrated groan. “I’m not letting you finish that easily, Viktor.” Yuuri purred, standing from his lap and holding his trousers up long enough to retrieve the oil and return, handing Viktor the bottle and letting his pants fall into a crumpled mess on the floor. “Regardless, I think you’d much rather make a mess of me than this beautiful suit, don’t you?”

Viktor sucked in a sharp breath as Yuuri shooed him off the couch and knelt where Viktor had been sitting, draping his torso over the armrest. This, he was familiar with, and the intrusion of Viktor’s fingers into his body was familiar as well. What was different was the utterly worshipful way Viktor opened him up, easing those most intimate muscles into relaxation. Viktor gasped every time Yuuri did, the very act of pleasuring Yuuri seemed to bring him pleasure as well.

Yuuri bit his lower lip as one of Viktor’s hands disappeared from his ass, a shuddered breath revealing what he was doing. Yuuri stole a glance over his shoulder, seeing Viktor’s hand wrapped around his weeping, reddened cock, the head of him disappearing and reappearing through the furl of his fist, his hips rocking slightly. Oh, he envied that hand, but it was his turn soon enough.

“Vik-tor,” Yuuri moaned as Viktor deepened the stretch, pulling him open even further and nudging at that spot within him that had him gasping, stars sparking at the edges of his vision. “Oh, god, do that again,” he pleaded, and Viktor obeyed, a soft coo of his own echoing the moan his admirer pulled out of him.

“Like this?” Viktor asked breathily, his voice catching at the edges like an unsuspecting foot on a loose cobblestone.

Yuuri moaned as Viktor pressed that spot again, nodding and rolling his hips. “ _Just_ like that…”

Soon, Yuuri was babbling and begging for more in every language he knew, rocking against the intrusion of Viktor’s fingers and the gentle brush of a pillow against his cock. Folded over the chaise lounge in his dressing room, naked from the waist down, Yuuri uttered the phrase _“Fuck me, darling,”_ without a shred of shame.

Yuuri shuddered at the first kiss of their sexes, the heat of Viktor’s cock lancing pleasure and anticipation through his body like a lightning strike. Viktor pressed into him with a throaty gasp of Yuuri’s name, the stretch of his member inside him was utterly divine. It burned down to the core of him, a pleasant heat that wrung his body dry, had him writhing, aching for more.

“Go on,” Yuuri encouraged, spreading his legs further, welcoming Viktor deeper. “Keep moving. I want you to fill me up,” he directed, looking over his shoulder at the debauched creature behind him, his lip bitten white between his teeth as it was clear he was trying to control himself.

“I… I’m sorry, Yuuri, I need a moment,” Viktor gasped, his bare hands caressing the dips of Yuuri’s hips, the plush swells of his ass and powerful thighs. There was tenderness in the touch again, and Yuuri lavished in it. He rolled his hips gently, savoring both the sensation and the sound it drew from Viktor, a garbled cry of Yuuri’s name.

“I don’t want you to take a moment, Viktor,” Yuuri purred, easing himself back onto Viktor’s cock, pushing himself back into the warmth of Viktor’s groin with a moan. “I want you to _fuck_ me, and _fuck_ me hard.”

Another Yuuri might have flustered at the mere thought of saying such filthy words, at uttering such a lewd thing. But Yuuri simply succumbed to sensation, arching his back as Viktor pressed himself in fully with a shudder.

“Yes, Yuuri,” Viktor whispered, a choked gasp falling from his lips as he withdrew and sank in again, the friction a spine-tingling pleasure that Yuuri cursed himself for ignoring for so long. Every long drag of Viktor’s body inside him had sparks of pleasure arcing through him like static electricity, like a match flicking to life over and over again.

Yuuri moaned praise as he pulled Viktor deeper, every clench of his body making both of them shudder, pleasure reverberating through both of them in an endless refrain. There was a wet, slick sound of skin on skin that made Yuuri’s eyes roll back, and Viktor’s panting, musical breaths like heaven’s bells in his ears.

Viktor’s hips began to stutter in their pace, growing frantic and sloppy and Yuuri clung to the sofa for dear life, ecstasy fizzling beneath his skin with every sound Viktor made, the gasping, shuddered recitations of Russian that Yuuri didn’t understand, save for his own name among the words. Yuuri’s head dropped to the armrest and he threw his hips back as best he could, despite the tremor in his thighs.

Yuuri cried out when Viktor wrapped his hand around his dick and stroked. Yuuri felt himself bucking forward into Viktor’s hand and back onto his cock, his body arching and bowing without his control.

“Viktor!” Yuuri gasped, his voice cracking and desperate. “I… more, more, I’m close,” he begged, pushing his ass back into Viktor’s groin with a sob. Viktor’s mouth met the tender flesh below Yuuri’s ear; hot panting breaths brushed over his skin and Yuuri knew he wouldn’t be lasting much longer.

“Can I finish inside you, Yuuri?” Viktor panted, his voice tightly controlled, as if he was hanging on by a thread, barely clinging to his own sanity as both he and Yuuri were unraveled entirely. “Please, please?”

Yuuri let out a bone-deep moan, prolonging the moment as long as he possibly could, keeping Viktor on that precipice, listening to the hissed breaths through gritted teeth, the panting… god, it was all too much.

“Yes, yes, Viktor you may,” Yuuri finally agreed, letting out a gasp of his own as he felt warmth flooding his core, Viktor’s head fell between his shoulder blades and he stilled, his hips twitching as he came. “That’s it, fill me to the brim, darling.” Yuuri purred, reaching between his legs and lacing his finger’s with Viktor’s and stroking himself with their joined hands. This, somehow, felt more intimate than any of the other touches. Interlaced fingers.

Curious.

“Yuuuuuri…” Viktor moaned languidly, the sound rolling off his tongue lazily. With a few quick, slick pumps, Yuuri found his bliss too, moaning Viktor’s name as he fell over the edge. The float down from high heaven was slow and easy, Viktor’s softening length withdrawn from Yuuri with a steady stream of spend following it. Viktor offered his handkerchief, and Yuuri blanched at the mere thought of dirtying something that way. He pulled his own from the pocket of his waistcoat and attended to the mess as Viktor slumped into the couch, fully wrung out, utterly spent.

“That certainly isn’t how I expected to spend my evening.” Yuuri muttered softly after cleaning himself, sinking into Viktor’s side on the sofa.

“I didn’t either, Yuuri.” Viktor replied with a tired smile, nosing at Yuuri’s temple gently. “I hope this doesn’t tarnish my reputation in your eyes?”

Yuuri laughed heartily and shook his head. “Only mildly. Though in your defense I didn’t think highly of your reputation before tonight.” Viktor’s head snapped to the side with great speed, Yuuri was surprised Viktor hadn’t made himself sick. “What? The elusive bachelor Viktor Nikiforov has a throng of admirers and a long list of men claiming they’ve slept with him…” Yuuri teased, recalling the gossip he had overheard Phichit sharing with a friend a few weeks prior.

Viktor held a hand to his chest in offense, but couldn’t keep a smile at bay, it seemed. “I am a man of chastity, how dare you accuse me of such a lewd thing, Katsuki Yuuri.” A laugh wormed its way into Viktor’s throat and spilled out as he spoke, making Yuuri laugh as well.

“Mmm, a man of chastity indeed.” Yuuri replied with a wink of his eye and a kiss to Viktor’s cheek. “Surely, not the type to purchase their object of affection a hundred-thousand dollar violin and ask them to perform a private concert, only to sleep with him in his dressing rooms.”

Viktor laughed. “Such a scandal, the papers will run the story for weeks.” Yuuri smirked and let himself be kissed by the man who had been sending the flowers, who had given him such a precious gift, who had brought him to oblivion and back…

“Let them run such a scandalous tale.” Yuuri smiled, kissing Viktor again in earnest. “Then no one will spare a glance when we’re seen having dinner together tomorrow evening.”

One of Viktor’s silver eyebrows arched upward in curiosity. “Tomorrow evening, you said?”

Yuuri smiled and nodded. “You have some courting to do, if I’m not confused on how these matters are _supposed_ to proceed. Since you’ve seemed to skip a few steps, I have no choice but insist you take me out for dinner.”

Viktor blinked at him slowly, then a sudden heart-shaped smile appeared on his features, those cerulean eyes sparkling bright. “I’d be honored, Yuuri, honored beyond words.” He paused, reaching for Yuuri’s hand and holding it gently in his. “You mentioned… _courting_.”

“That I did… I’m not the type to seek casual arrangements, Viktor.” Yuuri said softly, knowing that this may well be the moment Viktor stood and left, never to send another bouquet again. “I hope you understand.”

“I understand completely.” Viktor smoothed a few stray strands of hair back from Yuuri’s face. “I’m the same way, darling. I always have been.”

Yuuri’s smile spread wide across his cheeks and he stole another breathless kiss from Viktor’s lips. “Truly? So the rumors are false?” He asked, and Viktor refuted them with a laugh.

“That they are. You’ve met my one and only former beau, the gentleman who outbid you at the auction.” Viktor explained, and Yuuri flushed at the notion. “Christophe has become quite taken with a certain second chair violinist, and I can’t say I blame him… violinists have divine hands.”

Yuuri spluttered. “He’s… Phichit? Your accomplice is Phichit’s beau?” He stammered, stunned at the thought.

“You cast me as a criminal, darling.” Viktor teased, pulling Yuuri into his lap and cupping a gentle hand around his cheek. “It seems our fate was written in the stars long ago.”

Yuuri had a thousand and one questions for Phichit, of course, but for now, he could let them go. “Will you accompany me back to my apartment, Viktor? I’m worried, going home at such a late hour.” Yuuri asked, a playfully sweet smile on his lips.

“Of course, dear,” Viktor smiled in return. “Am I permitted to stay the night? I fear walking alone at night.”

“That… can be arranged.” Yuuri answered, melting into another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! it was only a matter of time before i wrote something like this, tbh. we love a sassy yuuri round these parts. please leave kudos and comments! i am but a little soybean, subsisting on kudosynthesis
> 
> ❤️ ia  
> [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/ia_theauthor) | [Tumblr](https://incandescentantelope.tumblr.com)


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